Anything
by BeneathTheVeil
Summary: A Todd/Lovett one-shot. She'll do anything for him, and that's all he needs to know...


The man standing outside of the shop was truly starting to terrify her as she stared out the dusty window

**Title:****_Anything_**

**By:** Hannahharriet  
**Rating:** R  
**Pairings:** Todd/Lovett  
**Summary:** She'll do anything for him, and that's all he needs to know.

**Disclaimer:**Don't own it, never will, etc etc. 

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_Lovett_

The man standing outside of the shop was truly starting to terrify her as she stared out the dusty window. Her hands were chafing due to their constant fiddling with her skirts, and even in the dim light of the London night, it was easy to see that her fair skin was even paler than usual. Hair a mess, as always, but starting to lose even more of its sheen due to the stress…

The man moved to his right, a dark hat perched atop his head and a black cape slung across his shoulders. She hadn't ever seen him before, nor had she wanted to, but that was what frightened her the most. She couldn't see his face, though she imagined that his skin was ghastly pale, not unlike hers, but different because of its remarkably pallid tone. Plus, his stance was quite ominous. It was ominous, indeed, as he slouched into his silver inlayed cane. Ebony, she guessed, was the base…when she had first seen the man, when it had still been light, she had hoped that he might go up for a shave, knowing full well that that cane would sell for quite a lot if displayed before the right people…or in the open air market, though it would have been quite questionable should she present such an item for sale.

She shook those thoughts away. At first, she hadn't taken notice. There were plenty of dark and menacing men that Mrs. Lovett saw wandering the streets of London. Her own Sweeney, bless him, was one of them. But there was something about this man, about the way he stood, about the way he kept _appearing_, that frightened her. She had never seen him before, and though she knew only some of her neighbors, she recognized almost all of them.

It was getting darker by the second. A torch was lit on the street corner opposite her shop, and in the orange light, she busied herself with whatever she could, cleaning for the day and preparing for tomorrow's onslaught of customers. And that man still remained. It wasn't even as if he was looking directly at her…he wasn't…he was quite a distance away, across the street really, and was looking at the building in general, not at her or her shop. In fact, he was really paying her no notice at all.

When she dropped her flour covered rolling pin on the ground, she drooped to pick it up and pondered on what to do. Of course, the immediate thing that came to mind was that she and her Mr. Todd had been discovered. There was something awkward about the man. He was searching for something. Her heart raced, and with dilated eyes, she looked up into the ceiling of the shop. He'd have to have noticed by now. With a huff she decided…it was too risky to wait any longer. She crept to the back room, out the back door to the shop, and started up the rotten wood stairs that were so seldom used at the back of the building.

_Todd_

It was unnerving, really, watching that imbecile of a man on the street corner. Of course he knew what the man was there for; of course he knew that it was no coincidence that he was looking up into the tainted windows of the barber shop. He didn't know the man, no, but he had been standing there for hours. So Sweeney Todd had stayed in his shop, not that he hid from anyone or from anything, and watched the man. Perhaps, in this case, it was better for him to bask in his stealth.

Todd saw the man occasionally make conversation with those wretched people that Lovett called neighbors. He knew what they spoke of. He knew what the man was asking. _Have you seen so and so? Do you know the barber there, on the second floor, atop the fine establishment of Mrs. Lovett's Meat Pies? Anything strange happen there, in the night, strange sounds and the like? _Oh yes, he knew what the questions were, and that man would pay. He was obviously some sort of fop (Todd smirked cynically at a memory…how Mrs. Lovett would enjoy his little games, and how she would enjoy _actually_ having fop on her menu) and Todd wished to have him gone by the morning. Foolish man, standing in broad daylight in the street, and remaining there into nightfall, when villainous figures roamed the streets. Obvious and utter fool.

He would pay for even beginning to draw conclusions. Some second rate detective, Todd concluded, staring out the window.

Todd's hair was tousled and grainy, no more than usual, but the orange light emanating from the newly lit torch brought out strange highlights. The lines and shadows under his eyes were prominent, and his lips pursed into an unyielding sneer. Eyes narrowing, he brushed across his barber's jacket. Blood hungry, he was, and he would have one more customer for the night.

When the door in the back of the shop creaked open and hit the wall, groaning from its infrequent use, he kept staring out the window. Mrs. Lovett would wait, and he already knew what she was going to say.

_Lovett_

"Strange man, that one is."

"Indeed."

Sweeney turned slowly to look at her, raising his eyebrows at her frantic expression and her hand resting on the door knob. He stood in his place, waiting for her to say something, for he knew she would…blather on and on, that is…and let his fingers fall upon his razor which was tucked into its holster lightly. She caught her breath and shook her head, closing the door cautiously behind her before walking towards him.

"Who do ya think 'e is?" She drawled, leaning against the window and looking down at the man across the street. She drew back almost instantly when the man looked up into the window. "Crazy lookin' bugger…thought ya would 'ave already gone down there ta…well…take care o' him."

"In time, pet," was his simple, deep reply. 

That damned razor, she thought, got all the attention in the world. It was as if its comfort was more important than the indisputable threat that loomed several hundred feet away from them. She almost rolled her eyes, but her judgment was clouded slightly by the fascination with which she looked at him.

In fact, her heart fluttered a little when he called her 'pet.' He did from time to time, and she knew it was only a false little name, but it still meant something…at least he wasn't ignoring her completely…well, not that day.

"Well, don' cha think ya should go down there? I mean, look at 'im! He's practically callin' the authorities right then and there." She walked closer to Sweeney, placing her hand lightly, ever so lightly, on his shoulder. Any more pressure and he would have slapped her away and stormed several feet into the corner. She continued. "I know ya think you can take 'em all with ease, Mr. T, but really, can ya run from the entire city? Ya won' get ta the judge by being discovered...and that man there's a bloody threat."

He raised his head, her hand still on his shoulder, and pondered. She looked into his face and swooned. He couldn't help but think of how inappropriate she could be, as she was preaching to him about killing off the man and trying to seduce him, in whatever way possible, at the same time. 

But she didn't see that, because despite the thoughts rushing through his head, his eyes showed no expression of the sort. His face remained a rock hard slab of granite.

"I'll go," he said, voice gruff. "Man's been on my bloody nerves half the day…thought he might come up by himself." He took his time cleaning the rest of razors, as to, apparently, show Mrs. Lovett that she could not simply come up and tell him what to do. But she wasn't thinking like that. She was, quite frankly, terrified, despite her tendencies to swoon at him. 

_Todd_

"You there! Sir!" 

Todd's voice echoed through the emptying street. London was dark now, almost completely so, save for the few lamplights flickering along the street. The man turned, and Sweeney smiled, quite a discomforting sight, but one that many fell for even with this.

"Hello," the man said, rather uncomfortably. Todd groaned inwardly, his eyes menacing. And yet the idiot man took the harsh look as an overenthusiastic smile. Todd couldn't be happier. He was going to use his friends one more time that day.

"I've noticed that you've been out here for quite some time," Todd voiced, trying to force the kindliness into his words. Even Mrs. Lovett, who would stare at him night and day if she were given the option, didn't know how difficult it was for him to put on his little acts every night. "I suppose that you're waiting for someone. In the meantime, would you care for a shave? My establishment is right across the street, and I guarantee satisfaction."

The man, still inwardly nervous, or so it appeared, was starting to open up more to the barber. Good. Todd was sure he would take the bait…getting into the shop would be exactly what the investigator would want. Little did the man know that what he was guaranteed would be the death of him. Literally.

"I don't know, sir, my acquaintance may arrive at any moment now. I wouldn't want to miss our meeting." 

Arrogant bastard.

Todd looked up and down the street, and when his face was away from the man, let a snarl fix itself into his mouth. Only when he turned back was the unsettling smile returned.

"The closest shave you'll ever know."

The man shook his head.

Utterly, incomprehensibly arrogant bastard.

"Come now, you would do well to-"

"No thank you, sir!" The man exclaimed, clearly exasperated, enunciating each word as if Todd was some lowly joke of a man. Todd could have killed him right then, on the street, but that wouldn't have been wise. No, he would wait. He would find some way to extinguish this ridiculously annoying problem.

"I apologize for any misdemeanor. You simply looked as if you might need something to occupy your time," Todd dug out. "Farewell, sir."

Farewell indeed. When Todd finally did get to kill the man, oh, how he would enjoy it.

_Lovett_

Mrs. Lovett watched from her perch above the street, the dusty window of Sweeney's shop only obscuring her view partially. There seemed to be trouble, and she felt her insides twisting at the thought of it. She knew that he wasn't afraid, her Sweeney, but she was. She would do anything for him…she'd kill for him. But being caught was not something she could possibly fathom.

Sweeney turned towards the building swiftly, the false smile gone and replaced with his usual mangled look. She stared. How wonderful that face would look if he would only smile once in a while…_really_ smile, that is. She'd take him in any way, but she couldn't help but to giggle a bit at imagining him smiling down upon her and running the back of his hand down her cheek.

The door burst open and he stepped in, that foreboding look of eminent plotting wrought on his slate colored face. She turned to him, eyebrows raised in questioning.

"He wouldn't come up. Knows that something's wrong. I'll have to do something else about him." He fell into his barber's chair and she cringed, thinking of all the men that had died in that chair. And yet there he was, clean and tidy, sitting in it. Gruesome, this room was. There was no doubt that those stories the neighbors had told were true now…ghosts were haunting this place.

Mrs. Lovett stood next to him, staring out the window as she thought. He stared into the dark corner of the room, his face like stone, pondering all the possible scenarios with which he could put the man into utter pain. She turned her gaze towards him a bit.

"I could go down, ya know," she stated. He continued staring for several moment before looking up at her.

"And do what?"

She walked in front of him, hands on her hips. "I don't know…offer 'im a pie or two. Ya never know what men'll answer to."

He shrugged and then sighed, something that she had yet to see him do. Her eyes widened, waiting for an answer.

"I suppose you could try."

"Yes, I could," she began. "And 'e doesn't expect anything strange from me…all we 'ave ta worry 'bout is 'ow to get 'im up into yer shop."

He nodded again. "Leave it to me, Mrs. Lovett, if you can't think of any other way."

She nodded her head in return, her eyes bright and a smile beginning to form on her lips. With that, she went to the door and opened it, taking the stairs down to the back of the building.

He sat in the chair, bloodthirsty as only he could be.

_Todd_

He watched her go out and down the stairs, into the shop below, and heard another door open and close as she went outside. His eyes shifted, and he could hear voices out the window.

_ How subservient_, he thought. _How wonderfully subservient._

What else would she do, he wondered, for him? She had done the unthinkable already, and here she was involving herself in a situation that could easily end up with her in a jail cell, or at least in a room in Bedlam. Perhaps she belonged to Bedlam, Todd thought, and he smirked evilly. 

No, she would do him no good locked away. No good at all.

And she was beginning to amuse him. He didn't let the thought he had about her curving figure wander, either. 

_Lovett_

"Hello," was the simple greeting she chose for the man as she walked briskly down the stairs from Sweeney's shop to her own. He responded minimally, not really even looking at her. 

"'ow are you, sir?" She tried, searching for some sort of an answer. Oh, how she hated doing this. She was nervous half an hour ago, and she was even more nervous now. And them man wasn't even responding.

"Fine, ma'am, fine," he replied brusquely, still looking down the street and not at her. He was quite tall, and she was quite short, so even her most assertive of stances wouldn't get his attention. 

"Was wonderin', sir, if ya'd be interested in a meat pie…figure yer waitin' for someone…migh' as well not wait on an empty stomach!" She put on a smile. Just like her Sweeney, she thought to herself, masking herself from the world. Her stomach gurgled ominously. 

"No, I'm fine…fine," the man said dismissively. He looked up into the barber shop window then, and she panicked. She looked up and her Sweeney was there, watching from the shadows. She didn't know if the man saw him, though. It took a keen eye to see in that darkness.

With an intake of breath, she gathered her courage. Sure, this man could send her to her untimely end, her and her Sweeney, if they were caught…but she needed to do _something_. Sweeney couldn't come down and manhandle him up…there were still numerous people bustling about on Fleet Street. They would be for several more hours. When she thought she had the bravery stored up (which only took a few moments, but felt like minutes, even hours, to poor Mrs. Lovett), she stepped straight in front of the man and looked into his face.

"I think ya need one, sir, and I'll give it to ya free, on the 'ouse." Such a statement was odd, especially in this part of London, where the merchants wouldn't give a penny away let alone one of their treasured goods. She didn't care though, strange as it was for someone of her class to say as such, because the man would be dead within the hour.

Or, at least, she hoped he would be.

He looked down from his concentrated point first, not really noticing her, but when she smiled at him and he looked at her face, his expression changed completely. She wondered why, really, until he started talking. All of his attention was on her in the matter of seconds.

To her joy, he had finally responded. And all too well.

"My dear, I would enjoy that very much," he said, his voice suddenly cheery. All it had taken was for him to look at her…interestingly enough. _What men would do_…she grinned to herself. "Pretty little thing, aren't you?" Her brows furrowed. _Wasn't expecting that._ "Yes, I'd enjoy a…pie...very much."

She nodded, nervous, overjoyed, and oddly giddy at the same time. "Right over here," she said, and led him to the door of the shop.

He sat at a table and took the mug of ale she offered him. After a long gulp, he placed the mug gingerly on the wood of the table and leaned back.

"How long have you run your little shop here, Mrs. Lovett? I assume you are Mrs. Lovett. Am I correct?" She turned from the counter and nodded, grinning.

"You've assumed correctly, sir." She fiddled with her skirt, wiping the flour from her hands, and looked back at the half-made pie. She had to get him up there…

"Sir, this migh' take a bit o' time. I need ta run down and fetch some more filling." She smiled to him and faced him completely. His eyes skimmed the front of her from her neck to her bodice and back up to her slightly exposed breasts. She shifted uncomfortably. 

"May I…accompany you?" He asked. 

She cringed to herself, almost letting her little act slip. The nerve of this man, this complete stranger-

"No," she said quickly. "I mean…I can do it meself. S'alright."

"Of course," he stated, clearly disappointed. "I'll wait here. Don't be too long, my dear."

She cringed as he called her 'dear.' Only her Mr. Todd ever called her that…even if it might be in some sort of sick mocking tone. Despite that, Mrs. Lovett only wanted _him_ calling her those little endearments. 

"Well," she muttered. "You could go for a shave real quick…'e's a nice man, that one, Mr. Todd. Looks like ya need one a bit, too…he'd be glad ta help ya." _Please, please, please…_

But his face darkened at that and he shook his head. 

"No, I don't think so." He paused. "I met the man out on the street and he seemed quite…unpleasant at that time." He laughed a little, a chuckle, really. "Never trust a man in a horrid mood with a razor."

She laughed along, but it was a nervous laugh, really, and she hoped he hadn't noticed. She didn't think he did, because his eyes had traveled back to the front of her dress.

"Well, jus' my opinion. No one likes a man with a bit 'o stubble. 'A full beard or none,' me mum used to say.'" She added a laugh there, for effect. "Whatever ya wish, though."

The man, whose name, she noticed, she still didn't know, remained oddly quiet. An awkward silence followed and she took a deep breath. "Well, I'll be righ'-"

"Actually, Mrs. Lovett, if you would indulge me," he began and she held a mixing bowl to her chest, to avert that stare. "I have some questions about Mr. Todd. Sweeney, I believe, his first name is?" Mrs. Lovett nodded. He was opening up to her…apparently he thought that she was within his trust. But that didn't matter, she told herself. _Have to get him up there…_"Have you seen…or heard…anything odd from the man?"

Mrs. Lovett paused for only a moment before answering. This part would be easy, she knew. Lying about him, especially because the lies were often her own dreamlike delusions, was something that came quite naturally to her. "Oh, heavens, no! He's a solitary man, but 'e's quite pleasant once ya get ta know 'im. I hear 'im with 'is customers…they all love 'im-" 

"Well, that is why I ask, Mrs. Lovett," he stated, cutting her off. "Someone has disappeared…a…friend, shall we say…and it seems to trace back to here. Odd circumstances, really."

"Quite," she said, her voice a bit higher than normal and shaking her head. "Well, I don' really know, sir, but Mr. Todd's a fine man…wouldn' go accusing 'im for anything."

The man thanked her as she turned. She fiddled for a few more moments with the bowl on the counter, stirring the dough pointlessly. She had to leave, get out of here, get this man to Mr. Todd. Her mind raced as she stirred, fidgeting with various items on the counter. She started to walk down the stairs, wary of leaving the man alone, when she heard the distinct sound of floorboards behind her…they were squeaking under weight. She gasped and turned, trying, _trying_ to keep her story playing. She felt the warmth from his body… 

"Thank you so…very…much, Mrs. Lovett." He was right behind her. Her heart pounded. The way he drew out his words and the proximity of his mouth to her neck told her everything she needed to know. "For that information."

_ Get 'im upstairs…do it now…before ya get yerself into any more trouble than ye can handle…_

"You're…welcome, sir." She swallowed harshly. _He thinks _this_ is what I meant…guess it seemed that way, me invitin' him in for a free pie…_The man brushed his hand against her neck…_heavens, I'm trapped. _She turned slowly to him, putting on a smile that she hoped looked partially seductive. _Anything for Mr. Todd, anything for Mr. Todd…_

His hand brushed her hair away from her neck and she shivered, not from his touch or from any sort of arousal, but from terror. She felt his breath on her skin.

_ Anything for Mr. Todd, anything for Mr. Todd…_

Lips pressed into her jaw and she squeezed her eyes shut, gripping the bowl so hard that her fingers were white. The blood in her body seemed to freeze, and her intake of breath only spawned him on more. 

Fingers brushed down the neckline of her dress...

A hand snaked its way around her corseted waist. She could feel the cold of it even through the thick fabric.

"Pretty little thing, y'are," he whispered in her ear, repeating his statement from earlier. As his hand found the tie to her corset, she jumped and squeezed her eyes shut even more, brows furrowed into painful stone.

_ Anything…anything for him…anything…_

And then all the worry went away. 

She only saw him coming at the last moment, a predator in the ominous dark, shining metal in his hand. His eyes seemed to glow…_demon_, she thought instantly, but oh…only him…

The blow was quick and strong. The nameless man fell forward into the wall of her shop and slid sickeningly down. There was no blood, only a forceful blow, and she gasped when another one hit the man straight in the gut…another in his head….another to his side.

He finally went limp. 

"I'll finish him off out back," was a dark reply in the dark and Mrs. Lovett pressed her back against the wall, breathing heavily, half in relief and half in fear.

_Todd_

He'd heard the man through the ceiling of the shop the entire time. 

He would only allow it to go so far, he knew, until he would have to go down there and take care of it himself. The ignorant man wouldn't come up to him, so he'd have to go down to the pompous bastard.

Finishing him off was easy, a quick slash in the blackness of the London night to a man that was already half dead. Todd threw him down the shoot into the basement. Filthy, the man was. Utterly filthy. Todd didn't want that one served…even the worst of the scum shouldn't have to eat that.

He returned inside quickly, his shirt still impeccably clean (there wasn't much blood, oddly, as if the man didn't even have a heart to pump it). He walked to the shop and opened the door slowly, his eyes set stiffly and dark. He had felt odd as he listened upstairs, through the whole encounter. He inwardly nagged himself to go down and take care of it, while another, deeper, part of him wanted it to go on, to see how far Mrs. Lovett could take the situation. 

But he knew, in the end, that even he couldn't let such a man attack a relatively innocent woman. Not after Turpin…not after Lucy…

He shook the thoughts from his head quickly. The room was dark still, darker than before, with shadows playing across the tables and counter. Mrs. Lovett was in the corner, her back to the wall and her breath coming in deep gasps. Funny, he though cynically, how the woman could chop up corpses and find _this_ situation so unnerving.

"Mrs. Lovett," he stated, voice low, but the danger and venom laced out of it. 

She sniffled a bit and looked up at him, the makeup over her eyes smeared a bit. "Why didn' you just use that razor o' yours?" She asked. That was not, of course, what was bothering her. She, too, would have beaten the man to death if she had had the option to do so.

"Because, my dear, I didn't wish to soil your pretty shop with red stains."

How considerate, she thought to herself. How jaded she was, he thought to himself, for thinking that _that_ statement was one of consideration.

She brought herself off of the wall and smiled at him, a bold smile, one that his the recently departed nervousness and anxiety. He smiled back, a grin, but not one that she wished for, with his teeth shining and his eyes soft…no, he would never smile like that.

It comforted her, though, to see him like that. He knew that. Her body language changed entirely. It was over. It had been close, but they had done it. 

He walked towards her, that smirk still etched into his features, and when he reached her, her eyes were wide.

"Tell me, Mrs. Lovett," he started, leaning in towards her slightly. He could almost hear her heart flutter at his closeness. "How far would you have gone?"

"Wha…what, Mr. Todd?" She stuttered, voice high. She found herself once again backed into the corner of the shop. 

"How far," he repeated, "would you have gone for me?" There was something menacing about the way he said it, and yet it was softly spoken. Mrs. Lovett was quite taken aback, and she panicked, mistaking his inquiries for accusations.

"'e wouldn't listen, Mr. Todd…I tried! I did! 'e just wouldn't listen to me!" He thought it was charming, how she wanted to prove herself. Charming in an almost sickening way…

"I couldn' get 'im up to the shop…'e just wouldn't 'ave it!" 

"You're not answering my question, Mrs. Lovett." He had advanced even closer, then, and his words were but a breathy whisper. He knew she felt it on her cheek. She shivered.

"I…don' know…I…" 

His mouth found her neck and he blew there. She gasped, eye shut tight, but in such a different way than they had been before. What was this? He was so close…closer than he ever was before, and she didn't understand, clearly. Nor did he, really…but the sight of her, willing to sacrifice at least a part of herself for him, sent an odd feeling through Todd. And the sight of her in the corner, her bare shoulders delectably hoisted into the wall, her corset shaping her body so deliciously, her breasts spilling slightly out of the top of her dress…

"You what?" He whispered into her ear. His lips descended where the breath met skin and he saw her limbs falter.

"I…Mr. Todd…" Her voice was just as breathy as his, in little gasps, as he continued his silent assault. When he stopped and lingered above her skin, he could see her silent pleading with him. Her hands dangled free, her body rigid in surprise and fear and intoxication.

"Answer," he said, louder this time, sternly yet not harshly. His hand skimmed, ever so lightly, down her arm and back up again. She breathed…he could hear it…and he knew that she could feel his every breath on her face. 

She paused, only for a moment. She was struggling to speak, and he wallowed in that. The effect he had on her, by being so close, was captivating to him. 

"Anything," she finally gasped out. "Anything for you, Mr. T."

He smirked at what she called him, and awarded her with his lips, back on her neck and attacking with force. His arms wrapped themselves around her, his hands pressing against her stomach. How much it made him sweat to hear her say that…_anything_…_she would do anything for him…_

_Lovett_

Oh, it was heaven. Her body was so overloaded with senses that she thought she might pass out. All of those years of waiting, and there he was, not even two inches from her, his hands lingering over her skin and his mouth…oh, his mouth, so cold and yet so soft…was sending delightful little shivers down her spine.

She heard his breath in her ear, felt in tickle, which sent even more shivers coursing through her body. She wasn't going to be able to stand much longer, not with his hand now petting gently at the nape of her neck.

"My dear, sweet, Mrs. Lovett," she vaguely heard him utter. "You do not know how much that means…"

She moaned, a wanton sound, and he responded to the noise by nibbling down on her neck. She couldn't possibly hold herself up anymore. Shaking slightly, her hand found the strong muscle of his shoulder and she held there, her other arm finding its way around his torso. She gasped a bit more when his mouth traced up to her jaw line and over her cheek. 

_ Oh…Mr. Todd…_

But it was only a thought, for she thought that if she took the chance and said his name, he might wake up from this wonderful stupor that was causing this behavior. 

His lips pressed ever so slightly against the side of her mouth. She never dreamed that he could touch like this…

_ You're so warm, Mr. Todd…_

His hand skimmed the opposite side of her ivory skin, in a spot so sensitive to her. Yet another light shot of shivers down her spine. Only the slightest pressure turned her head to him.

_ Warm…in my hand…oh, my love…_

She only wished she could utter the words. Oh, she would, if she could speak in the first place. 

And then his mouth was on hers, his tongue seeking entrance, and his lips creating the most wonderful pressure she'd ever known.

Everything cascaded from there. Her leg found its way against his thigh, her chest pressed harshly into his, his hands tangling in her auburn hair, and her hands finally finding their home nestled into his own blackened locks. She couldn't get any closer that she already was, and yet she wanted to be closer, to hold him even closer, to envelope him. Somehow she found herself hoisted into the air, and she wrapped her legs around his waist. He was so cold, so foreign to her, despite all the times she stared at him, all the times she imagined what he would feel like. 

Her bed was surprisingly soft when she was thrown down upon it. It never felt like that any other night. She almost commented on it, but her mind was half clouded by the unpredictable barber and the other half was warning her to not spoil this moment no matter what.

He leaned over the bed and ran his hands down her sides. His mouth found hers again, in a forceful kiss, so different from the feather light ones he had granted her before. No, these kisses were passionate, unhindered, and he cupped her face in his hands after running them up the length of her torso.

He leaned back for a moment, after taking her lips, and looked at her oddly. She laid there on the bed, with her arms holding her weight up behind her. He was making her nervous, his eyes darkened and searching her body. The loosened sleeve of her dress fell softly from her shoulder, and she moved slowly to pull it back up, but his hand, impossibly fast, caught her wrist before she could. And with that look, that looming stare, he began kissing her again, and all was lost but the touch of his lips upon her own. 

_Todd_

He had had to think for a moment, just one moment, before he began ravishing her again. Why was he doing it? Why was he even touching her, with his precious Lucy still so fresh in his mind? Why did even want to do this…to _please_ her, this woman that he had only intended to use until he no longer needed her?

Her hands ran their way through his charcoal hair, played with the white stripe that streaked it, and he knew. It was her utter need to please him, her desire to fulfill his every wish and his every want. It was more than just the need for a woman. It wasn't as if he hadn't noticed the dresses she wore, too revealing for most women her age. No, he noticed, and when she would leave his shop, he would watch her back, so wonderfully covered by her corset, and he would imagine what she might look like. He passed it off as male instinct at first, initially disgusted with himself. 

But the feeling grew. He recalled it as he laid her down upon her bed. He loved how she looked at him, how she worshipped him. Lucy had never done such things…Mrs. Lovett was a wonder, such a wonder indeed.

Her devotion was as pure as could be. He knew that as she let him undo the laces.

_Lovett_

When he made love to her that first time, she was so enraptured that she thought she might die. When he would move inside of her just slightly, and let his hand play over her in the most sensitive places, like he _knew_ her so well, she knew she was going to perish right then and right there, from pleasure. His face, his beautiful face, etched not now in bleak concentration but in…what was it?...bliss?...yes, bliss. She never thought that she would see that.

He kissed her afterward, like she had never been kissed before, and she pondered secretly about this change in behavior. Passionate, he was, perfect, he was, and she knew it…but it wasn't him, wasn't Sweeney Todd.

Her head lay softly against his collar bone, his hand nestled into her auburn hair, as she thought of him. Her hand was on his chest ever so slightly, and it warmed his cold skin. When she ran her hand in his hair and twisted the streak of white through it, he sighed, and almost, _almost_, smiled, and she was satisfied. For once in her life, she knew what satisfaction was.

And she would do anything to keep that feeling bottled up within her. Anything at all.

_fin_


End file.
